Worthless
by HOAnubisTS
Summary: By District 4 standards, I'm worthless. Good for nothing. That is... until I crossed the fence and met Tate, my best friend from another district. Our friendship was unbreakable - until Snow's cruel grasp on us twisted it until it remained no more. We may not survive... because the 59th Hunger Games is beginning.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys, this is my first Hunger Games fanfic! I hope you enjoy it.**

Worthless.

I've been taunted by this word my entire life. At first I shrugged it off, thought it was just people mocking me because of their own insecurity. But then, as I grew older – and wiser, I suppose – I began to realize that I really am _worthless_, or at least by District 4 standards.

I can't weave nets. The simplest knot makes my brain go numb.

I can't cook or bake bread. Everything I touch becomes either tasteless, or burns until it's reduced to ashes.

I can't fish. I tend to dose of after just five minutes of waiting for a fish to swallow the bait.

Worst of all… I can't swim. Maybe it's due to my extreme hydrophobia. Every time I feel water on my skin, it petrifies me. My mind slips into a state of frenzy, where I can't gather my thoughts and attempt to scream for help. Maybe it's because of my bony body shape, with not an ounce of muscle intact. Yet my excuses don't matter – I can't swim, and that's that.

My life is monotonous.

Or, _was_ monotonous. It was monotonous, yes – but that was all before I met _him._

* * *

It had been two weeks since my parents had died in a boating accident. I roamed the outskirts of District 4 aimlessly, keeping close to the fence, staying as far away from the heart of the district as I possibly could. Occasionally I'd shoot a glance at the scenery beyond the fence. Rich woods, the hoot of wild birds, vast hills that seemed to stretch on forever.

As I spotted a bush of blackberries, my father's last words to me rang through my ears. "_You're a worthless thing, you. A coward. Have you ever taken a risk? No, you just sit on your ass and stare out the window. Why don't you try and do something courageous? Worthless bitch." _Momentarily, I was in my house again, looking up to my father's face, his lips curled into a loathing sneer. The door slammed shut… and then an eerie silence followed.

The flashback dispersed, and I was back at the fence again. The fragile silence told me that the wire's electricity was off. Even with that obstacle in the way, it was barbed and knit tightly together. I looked up at the clouds, tinted a light shade of pink, and whispered menacingly, "I hope you're watching me."

What happened next, I can't explain. Adrenaline surged down my spine, and I found myself inspecting the fence for a way to escape. Eventually, I found a loose spot at the far east of the Justice Building. I glanced around for potential dangers, a Peacekeeper maybe, then lay my body on the soil and crawled through the opening. I managed to wriggle out of its grasp on my leg, but not before I got a long, painful across my calf. Averting my eyes, I propped myself up on my elbow and swallowed. The sight of blood revolted me.

Unsure of where to go, I decided on the path toward the hills. I was terrified, almost numb with terror, and my stomach was still somersaulting with unease.

I did not feel welcome. The woods were repelling me, telling me I don't belong. Their gnarled limbs waved me away. The wind whispered threats at me. I simply overlooked them and continued straight.

I walked and walked, tripping over branches, my knees buckling under me. The sun was rolling down the horizon gradually. A cool evening breeze slid down my bare arms mercilessly.

Then something caught my eye. A fence. But this was no District 4 fence….

I had no time to make further conclusions. "What are you doing here?" a voice boomed behind me.

Gritting my teeth, I turned around slowly. This was it. The Peacekeeper was going to arrest me, and I was never going to be able to taste liberty.

Except, when I turned around, I found that it was a boy. My age, probably, with icy blue eyes and scruffy hair that had the odd twig amongst it.

Swallowing hard, I stammered, "I… I was walking… I was walking…"

"Where are you from?" he cut me off sternly. "You don't have a District 5 look to you."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "District 5? You… you're from District 5?"

"Of course I'm from Five." He paused. "You're not?"

"No."

He was obviously irritated by my vagueness. "So where ARE you from?"

"Four. District 4." His eyes widened and his pupils dilated.

"Four? You walked all the way from Four?" he exclaimed.

For the first time, I took notice of the snares and knives in his hand. "Yes. So why are _you_ here?"

Hesitantly, he answered, "To get food." Bitterly, he added, "Not that you would know, coming from a Career district."

I didn't know what he meant. Food was meant to come from the market. What was he doing here in the woods, looking for it?

It dawned over me. As I scanned his body, I could see, under the thick muscles of his, years of starvation and malnutrition. I remembered what my mother had said before I fell asleep, one stormy May night. _"We are lucky to have food on the table. Many districts can't feed themselves." _

He slashed his knife into a tree. "What are you doing here?"

"Walking around," I answered weakly. "Proving… to my parents, that I'm not worthless. I know they're watching me from above."

His features softened and so did his voice. "Are you any good at hunting?" I shook my head feebly. "Can you set up snares?" My cheeks flushed a deep scarlet. He smirked playfully. "Let's start from the simple things. What's your name?"

A spark glimmered in my eye and I could feel the corners of my mouth twitching. "Amabel. Yours?"

"Tate." He stretched his hand out, and reluctantly, so did I. And as his large fingers wrapped around mine, I knew this was the start of a friendship so strong, only death could break it.

From then on, I met up with him almost every day. I was no longer careless when crossing the fence, taking extra measures to avoid Peacekeepers. After all, if they found out, Tate would be electrocuted and I'd be fed to the hungry muttation sharks.

He taught me a few basic snares, which berries to collect, and eventually showed me how to throw a knife.

Of course, I wasn't any good at it, but that didn't stop me from trying. Occasionally I'd be able to pin down a wounded mouse – with Tate's help, naturally.

He told me about his life in 5, his family, his friends… but mostly he talked about the hunger. Guilt gnawed through me whenever he did. Why did he, who was so strong willed and brave, barely get anything to eat, while I, who couldn't do anything for myself, have a meal laid out in front of me every day?

* * *

Reaping Day was the day most people dreaded. Except me. Reaping Day wasn't a big deal – even if my name was called, another girl, who's noticeably stronger and fitter than me, would replace me.

I worried of course, but not for myself. I worried for Tate. What if he was chosen? I'd have to watch him be bled of life, watch him die a horrible, gory death….

I brushed the thought away and wiped my damp cheeks dry. _He won't be picked_, I reassured myself.

I had never been more wrong in my life.

**Please review. Thank you guys!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys, I'm here with a new chapter! Special thanks to Vampanezegirl97, Melissa Mellark c, and Anla'shok for reviewing!**

**And thanks to Dead L E for proof reading. **

**Please don't be hesitant to give me constructive criticism!**

My favorite feature is my hair.

Not only is it the first thing everyone notices, because it's impossible to miss – hip-length blonde waves cascading down in layers, but it's a very effective hiding place.

All I have to do is put it in front of my face, and I zone out of reality into the abyss of fantasy. I'm not amidst bullies smirking at me. I'm not isolated on a boat, floating on water.

And right now, behind my hair, I'm not in the middle of the 14's group in the City Square.

Marsha Matters, our escort, prances up on the stage with a silly neon suit. Her make-up is drastic and vibrant. What she's dressed in must be the peak of fashion in the Capitol – but here in District 4, she's a laughingstock.

She taps the microphone thrice, clears her throat, then says meekly, "Welcome, District 4. It is the time, to reap a young man and woman to fight to the death…" She paused as she tugged on the hem of her shirt. "… in the 59th Hunger Games. Let's switch it up a bit… boys first!"

I could hear my own heart beating rigorously. Who was going to be picked, and most importantly, who was going to volunteer?

Her hand circled in the bowl, before snatching one and snaking it out. "Michael Ph-"

Two dozen hands thrust themselves into the air, and a chorus of "I volunteer!" s broke out.

All the raucous quieted down when a strong, bulky boy pushed his way through the crowd and pounced at the stage.

Marsha raised her eyebrows. "Your name, please?"

"Rennard," he said gruffly, then stepped back into his spot and focused on a point far, far away.

A murmur of assent rippled through the crowd. "Now for the ladies."

* * *

"_What would you do if your name gets chosen?" Tate was skinning a rabbit in front of me, as I sat on a rock, watching the sunset. _

"_If I get chosen someone will replace me," I chuckled. "What if you get reaped?"_

_He looked up from his rabbit, considering the thought. "Well, I'd go to the Games. Train. Get a decent score – an eight, a seven perhaps. Get the hell out of the Cornucopia. Steal a knife from someone. Live on rabbits and roots. Then I'd take out the last tribute with my knife. Be a victor. Go on the Victory Tour. See you in the crowd. Give you the biggest hug I have ever given anyone." His eyes lost their lively glint. "That, or I'd die a horrible, bloody death in the bloodbath." _

"_You wouldn't die, you'd climb up some mountain and throw knives at the tributes." _

_Raising himself up, he perched himself on the rock next to me and whispered, his voice trembling, "Except I couldn't kill. I will never kill anything except animals. I will never be their little sock puppet."_

* * *

The girl next to me was in hysterics. She sobbed convulsively, as another girl tried to lull her. Marsha chuckled uncomfortably as she pulled out a name.

_Does she know?_ I pondered. _Does she know how much we suffer through these games? Does she know how many families fall into depression when their child dies? Does she know?_

I hid even deeper in the comfort of my hair.

"Amabel Swanson." My blood ran cold. _Don't worry, Amabel, the Careers will volunteer._

But a fragile silence blanketed over the area. No one volunteered.

I waited for a moment, thinking maybe they hadn't heard the announcement. Reprimanding eyes cornered me from all around… and suddenly I knew why everyone was so hushed.

They wanted me in the arena. They wanted me dead.

Tears threatened to run down my cheeks, but I prevented them from escaping. I wanted to look brave in front of these people. Sadness would make me seem vulnerable and weak.

Which I am, needless to say, but at this moment, it would be for the best if I didn't show it.

"Our tributes: Amabel Swanson and Rennard…. just Rennard." The crowd was allowed a moment to scan us, before we were ushered into the Justice Building to see our loved ones.

I wasn't expecting anyone. I sat in the plush couch and wiped my sweaty palms on the curtains, watching a clock like a wildcat watches its prey. Then, curling into a foetal position, I wept into my knees.

Surprisingly, at the fifth minute, the door creaked open and a hunched woman, one of about sixty, trudged into the room.

"Amabel," she smiled grimly. I ran into her arms, inhaling her familiar smell of cinnamon and cooked meat.

"Oh, Gram, they want me dead," I sobbed. "They all want me dead. I'll die in the bloodbath, I will, won't I?"

She refrained from crying. That's what she always did – when I was at my lowest, she remained emotionless. She wiped my tears away with her thumbs gently. "Never underestimate yourself."

A Peacekeeper told her her time was over, and she left.

I was all on my lonesome once again.

* * *

"What are you good at?" Flick, the male mentor, questioned Rennard. We were on the train, in the dining room, feasting on the rich Capitol food.

"My spear," he grunted, his mouth full of the beef soaked in gravy. "My trident. I can weave nets and start a fire. Set snares." Flick nodded in approval.

"How about you, darling?" Samantha, my mentor, trilled. She was unusually cheery for a person that had been in the Games.

I looked down at my plate. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" she laughed, as if it was all a big joke. "Oh, you must be good at something!"

"She's not," Rennard replied for me. I knew he was telling me the truth, but it stung hearing someone else say it so matter-of-factly.

"We'll find some secret talent of yours," she said. I smiled back ruefully, know that deep inside, she was certain that I was hopeless.

After dinner, our escort beckoned us to the couch to watch the replays of the reapings. I took notice of how Rennard sat as far away from me as possible.

The plasma TV lit up with color. Shortly after, two Careers, both strong and determined, came up on the stage for One.

A girl with a sly smile and a somber looking boy for Two.

Timid tributes for Three, with ashen skin, their entire bodies shaking.

I watch as Rennard rips his way up the stage. Then I stagger myself up next to him. The screen goes black – then the logo of District 5 makes its way up to the middle.

And the tributes for District 5 are…

**A bad place to end it? Yesh, perhaps… I think all of you know what's happening next. :P**

**Please review your thoughts!**

**And yes… I stole the name Swanson out of Penumbra: Black Plague. :P**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey Mockingjays I'm here with yet another update. I hope you like it!**

**Just in case you guys ask: I meant to change tenses. It was meant to be past tense first – then changing into present.**

I sat in my room and cried. For a good hour, I stayed cradled in my bed, sobbing into my pillows. Marsha and Samantha knocked on my door a couple of times, coaxing me to leave the remote safety of my room.

It was my hunger that made me go out into the dining room. Samantha and Marsha greeted me enthusiastically. Rennard bothered to look up from his plate and grunt me what I think meant hello.

As I sat down, I found that two pairs of sympathetic eyes were trained on me.

"It's hard, we understand," Samantha cooed. "But think about it. You're going to spend your last few days in the Capitol. Make new friends. Feast on the food." Even she had given up hope that I could perhaps be victor.

Of course, none of them knew why I was so miserable. They thought it derived from the fact that I was petrified to go into the arena, that I was scared of death. When in reality… I wept for Tate.

"You get to try on new dresses! Oh, wait until you meet your stylist!" Marsha cried. She stroked a lock of my hair softly. "You'll be beautiful."

With a feeble nod of thanks, I piled food onto my plate. Mashed potatoes in a buttery orange sauce. Bread with herbs and meat cooked into it. Barbequed ribs and steamed vegetables. Rice with bits of clam and salmon. I have to admit, I never had a day where I went to sleep with an empty stomach. But compared to Capitol food, you could say I lived my entire life in poverty. I shovel the food in my mouth until I simply can't hold more. Dessert arrives – cupcakes that smell like cinnamon and chocolate - and I, ignoring the protests of my overstuffed stomach, eat more.

After dinner we sit on the couches, the TV replaying the reapings once more. I avert my eyes. I can't look at him being picked one more time. I can't.

What Rennard says next makes my body go numb. "The guy from 5…."

Flick raises his eyebrows. "What about him?"

"He's strong," he observes. "Brave, too. Perhaps we can enlist him in the Career pack." _Make them change the topic, Amabel. Say something!_

I utter my first words since the first replay of the reapings. "What do… what do I do? When I go into the… arena?"

"Go into the Career pack, of course, honey!" Samantha smiles. Her cheerfulness and optimism irritates me.

It's Rennard that answers for me. "She can't be in the Career pack. She's weak." His bluntness stings, once again.

Flick considers it, then quips, "Perhaps you can get an ally. You'll be more likely to live then. Once the gong rings, don't get close to the Cornucopia. Run away from it. The Careers might not kill you because you're from a Career district, but other strong kids – the girl from 10, the boy from 6 – might. Organize a plan with your ally beforehand, so he or she can get supplies and you can find shelter. Choose someone you can trust."

I'm shocked by the sudden burst of good advice. I decide I quite like him – if anyone can help me, it's him.

I kiss my escort*** and my mentor on the cheek, bid everyone goodbye, and go back to my bedroom.

Tomorrow I will be in the Capitol. With that thought still in my head, I close my eyes and try to sleep.

* * *

"Amabel. Amabel, wake up. Amabel." Whoever it was didn't need to try to rouse me. I was awake all night. The nightmares of Tate dying in every imaginable way – being slashed to bits by a vicious tribute, being ripped apart by a fierce muttations, tongues of fire licking him until he finally burned down to ashes – would not let me slip into the abyss of slumber.

I get on my feet and steady myself. "Are we in the Capitol?"

The person - who I discover is Marsha - fusses over the black circles around my eyes and my question is left unnoticed.

"Oh my, oh my!" she exclaims. "What will your prep team think of you?" I roll my eyes and head to the dining room, leaving her to trail after me like an overenthusiastic puppy.

Breakfast doesn't disappoint me either. Ham, scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, pancakes with syrup, and a hot liquid. I smell it cautiously.

"That's coffee," Samantha says. I bring the mug to my lips and take a sip, then spit it out immediately. She chuckles. "It's better with sugar and milk."

"I don't see how anything can make it better," I mumble. I take a bite of the pancake and almost let out a moan of satisfaction. "Wow, this is amazing."

Rennard nods in agreement. A Capitol attendant fills a glass with juice and passes it down to me.

"What do we do when we got off the train?" Rennard asks, his mouth full.

"When you get out, smile," Flick instructs. He takes a bite of the roll in his hand. "They all respect you – District 4 is always one of the favorites. No matter how sad you are – smile. Then, when we go into the Training Center, you can sulk as much as you want. You need sponsors."

I don't want to smile for these people. The only person who deserves my smiles is Tate – and perhaps Marsha, because of how silly yet despicable she is. I despise every one of the Capitol people. But Flick was right about the sponsors – with their help, I might be able to keep myself alive for the first few days.

"Look, we're almost there!" Samantha croons. All of us crowd by the window to get a glance of the breathtaking skyline. At the sight of every building, towering above the others, reaching for the heavens, I let a gasp escape from my throat. The scent of pine trees and smoke drifts in through the window. This is a huge change from District 4, where everything reeks of salt water, salt water, and more salt water.

The train comes to a halt gradually, its wheels screeching. We enter a tunnel briefly, then exit into the train station. People cluster around the arriving trains as an excited buzz runs through them. I can hear choruses of "They're here, District 4 is here!" and "Oh, I can't wait!".

How comforting – they can't wait for us to die a gory death.

Following Flick's advice, I conceal every strip of hatred I have for them in a deep, dark corner of my mind, put on my most attractive smile, and exit the train, my head held high.

**The next chapter is the stylist and the chariot ride! :D Please please please review. **

***** I was next to a friend who hasn't read the books when I was writing this. She casually looks over and reads "I kiss my escort". XD It was very funny.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I finally got to updating. Sorry I was so late. **

I had the sudden urge to scream and run and hide when I saw my prep team. They looked like something out of a tall tale – so grotesque and artificial, they couldn't possibly be real humans.

The one with piercings all over her face introduced herself as Cerella. She told me to take off all my clothes, and very self consciously, I did.

"Oh, by golly!" the guy with the pink, upright hair – who later revealed his name was Edd - gasped. "You're _hairless!_"

"Do you wax at home?" the freakiest looking one asked, as stunned as Edd.

What a stupid question. Why would I? Being hairy is no big deal in the districts. "No."

"How are you so _hairless_?" Their stupid Capitol accent and their stupid Capitol questions were irritating me.

"I don't know," I growled through gritted teeth, fingers clenched into fists. They took the hint and went straight to work. My own anger was surprising me. I was usually a calm and rational person, settling the matter with words, not weapons.

"Your stylist is ready for you!" Edd said, to my great relief. I've had enough of the trio for a day.

* * *

They lead me into a damp, cold room, where I was made to sit on a table and wait. The smell of roses lingered in the air. Although it was faint, it made me feel queasy.

Finally, my stylist sashayed through the door, her dramatically high heels clacking on the tiles.

If I thought my prep team was grotesque, she was monstrous. The thought that she was going to be in charge of how I looked wasn't very comforting.

"Dearie!" she piped. "My, you're a beauty. Look at that hair! Hourglass figure too." Her hands went to my chest. I almost smacked her hands off. "Hmm… these could be bigger." She giggled. "Dearie, you'll be gorgeous!"

I wasn't so sure.

She went on. "District 4 is… about the sea. And in the sea, you have beautiful creatures."

"Mermaids? Hasn't that been done before, a thousand times?" I quipped.

"No, dearie, not mermaids," she replied, looking wounded. "Sailors."

"Sailors? Can women be sailors?" Usually, women in District 4 wove nets and sold the fish the men caught.

"Who cares, dearie? You'll be one anyway!" And with that she made me close my eyes and slip into a dress that was so tight, I could barely breath. "Open your eyes, dearie! Look at how _gorgeous _you look!"

When I opened my eyes, my jaw fell instantly.

The dress was so short, it revealed more than half of my upper thigh. It was so low cut my chest was barely covered. The only District 4 touch there was to the outfit was the sailor's hat on my head.

"My, you're _gorgeous!_" she piped. "Gorgeous!"

My stylist ushered me into the stables and told me to smile confidently. "They're going to love you dearie!"

* * *

Rennard was already in the carriage, his face a deep shade of scarlet. I could see why - the only clothing he had on was the underwear with the nautical designs on it. And, of course, the hat.

His eyes flickered at me, and for just a moment we shared a moment of pity.

"Hey Amabel," a voice called. I turned my head to find Tate, a smirk playing on his lips. "Nice get-up!"

"Could say the same to you," I shot back. Even though he wasn't practically nude like I was, he was wrapped around in wires to symbolize District 5's electricity. In response, he stuck his tongue out, and then looked straight ahead of him, as if I weren't there.

"You seem to be getting on with District 5," Rennard muttered. He wasn't looking me in the eye, and instead seemed to be fascinated by the gates.

Oh no. What do I say? What could make him less suspicious? "We… we talked a bit at the archery station."

A sly smile replaced the frown on his face. "Archery? Never knew you could deal with a bow."

"I'm not," I bristled. For some reason I felt a bout of anger rise over me. "That's why we bonded. He helped me."

He mumbled something back, but his voice was drowned by the din the crowd was making once District 1 rolled out. Two followed – adorned tastefully with jewelry made of stone. The kids from three had scraps of metal stuck onto them.

Our horses neighed and jolted forward.

The bright lights hurt me eyes, but soon faded away into darkness. I couldn't see – all I could hear was the crowd screaming, screaming, screaming… until they sounded so distant I couldn't hear them.

**It might be confusing (the ending, I mean), but I'll explain in later chapters. Review, please. I'll give you a cyberhug if you do.**


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